From the Ravine to the Cookies:Missing Scenes from 'If You Could See
by Voyager Tip
Summary: This story begins when Milt finds Mark at the bottom of the ravine in the episode "If You Could See What I See" and continues through the long wait at the hospital while Mark is in surgery, then in the Surgical ICU. It ends after the last scene of the show.
1. The Ravine

**From the Ravine, to the Cookies**

_Author's Note- There have been a lot of wonderful stories posted on this site, to fill in the huge missing scenes in the episode 'If You Could See What I See'. I have read them all, and am in awe at the talent of the writers in this fandom._

_Finally, I've found the courage to tackle these missing scenes myself. I hope this story will be well received by the fans of this show and all the fanfiction readers. __I've tried to take a slightly different approach than other authors… just some different points of view, and memories to consider while Milt waits during that long day and night in the ICU._

_My story begins with Hardcastle finally finding Mark lying at the bottom of the ravine, and ends with Millie's leaving. It took me awhile to muster the courage to give this one a try, but I figured it was kind of a "right of passage". So, here is my story about these missing scenes. _

_Of course, these characters aren't mine and this story only exists to provide entertainment and hopefully pleasure for the devoted fans of this great show._

Ch 1 The Ravine

Milton C. Hardcastle felt the breath leave his body as he stood at the top at the top of the hill in shock. He'd found the kid, but he could see how bad things looked at the bottom of the ravine. It didn't look like McCormick had moved… all night long.

He steeled his feelings, unwilling to allow any emotion at all until he had his hands on his friend. He was afraid to go down, but at the same time he felt pulled toward the figure lying at the bottom. He started down the hill, not knowing whether he would find life or death, prepared for the worst, but needing to be there without delay.

As he knelt beside McCormick, the young man opened his eyes and whispered breathlessly, "whattookyousolong?".

Hardcastle took an unsteady breath, slipped off his jacket and spread it over the still form. He didn't look good, and Milt was struck by an incredibly strong need to comfort him.

"I'm gonna take care of you now, you're gonna be alright, just hold on," he said immediately... simple and direct was all he could think of to say.

Mark stared at the jurist, unable to gather enough strength to speak again, but so grateful to have the judge with him. If there was one thing he would bet his life on, it was that the judge would take care of him.

"I'm gonna go back up and send for an ambulance, I'll be back in 5 minutes kiddo," Hardcastle said, placing his hand over Mark's and squeezing. He smiled when Mark squeezed back.

Milt moved up the steep hill quickly.

"Millie, drive back down to where the police stopped Price, and tell them we need an ambulance. Get blankets or tell em to bring blankets up here," Hardcastle ordered as he rifled through the back of the truck, looking for anything at all he could use to cover McCormick.

"Take this and get back down there," Millie ordered, shoving her heavy sweater into his hands as she pulled the truck door open.

Hardcastle took it with a nod and hurried back to the edge of the hill and started down as Millie turned the truck around.

"Here's a good heavy sweater kiddo," he said as he spread it out on top of his jacket. "Millie went to call an ambulance, Frank's close by so it won't take too long." He paused, "I'm gonna stay with you, you're gonna be okay."

"Hurts...," Mark whispered, too tired to open his eyes.

Milt rested one hand on McCormick's head, while the other tucked the sweater up around his shoulders. "I know, not too much longer. I know you got shot," he'd seen the bloody spot on McCormick's shirt when he first arrived, and he knew there had been a lot of bleeding, the puddle of blood on the pool house floor was a testament to that. What he didn't know was whether there were any other injuries. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his friend.

Mark blinked, trying hard to concentrate. "my shoulder," he answered.

"Where else kiddo?" Milt asked softly, as he gently stroked the kid's head with his thumb.

"Milt, I've got a blanket," Frank called out as he started down the hill.

Milt leaned down close to McCormick and whispered, "anywhere else?"

"Head hurts,... he threw me down the hill."

The judge glanced up at the steep slope and back down at McCormick, his anger flaring.

"Who threw you down here?" he asked.

"Pr Price," Mark stammered softly, "scary," he added as he began to shiver.

"Anybody'd be scared of that," he paused, "but you're safe now. Just hold onto me."

As if following orders, Mark squeezed the judges hand. Hardcastle smiled, "That's the ticket kiddo, just hold on."

"Cold."

"I know, I'm sorry, I'll get you warmed up as soon as I can," Hardcastle whispered, fear seeping into his gut at the one word answers and the grayish color of the skin. He could tell that Mark was close to death, but as long as there was life in him, there was hope and he was determined to save his friend.

He sat in silence then, holding onto Mark, anxiously watching him breathe.

Frank spread the extra blanket over him, then sat back and watched the scene. He could hear sirens in the distance, but his attention was on the two men before him. He had never seen Hardcastle like this. His thumb gently stroking Mark's head while he held his hand. The kid seemed to be unconscious now, his hand suddenly limp, but Hardcastle still held on and bent down and spoke to him quietly. Frank couldn't hear what he said and wasn't sure he would've wanted to. He suddenly felt a knot in his throat and coughed as he stood up and called to the officer standing above.

Suddenly, an EMT and Paramedic were taking up positions on either side of McCormick, assessing his injuries and planning his care. Hardcastle moved toward Mark's head so he could keep his hands on him while the EMS workers did their job.

"BP 76/30, Pulse 145, Respiration 30, O2 Sat 92%, skin cool and clammy."

The numbers blurred with other medical jargon and only put more fear into the judges heart. He watched in silence as they started an IV, placed an oxygen mask over Mark's face, a splint on his leg and arm, and lifted him into the rescue basket. He'd been so absorbed with comforting him that he hadn't noticed the leg injury.

He'd known that Mark was in bad shape, but had been afraid to move him. There hadn't been much he could do to help him, besides keeping him warm and getting him to the hospital as fast as possible. He wondered about infection, but no one had said anything about that. After being shot and thrown down into the dirt and leaves so many hours ago, Mark would almost certainly develop an infection. But first he had to survive the blood loss, exposure and shock. Unfortunately Hardcastle knew too much about injuries. This was one of those times that knowing too much was a disadvantage.

"Milt?" Frank asked uncertainly.

Hardcastle just stood staring at the basket as it disappeared onto the street above.

"You alright?" Frank asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but wanting to hear something from the jurist.

"He stopped talking…" he seemed unable to go on.

"We're gonna follow the ambulance to the hospital now," Frank ordered and motioned up the hill. Hardcastle started climbing.

The ambulance was pulling away as they reached the road. Frank grabbed Milt's arm and led him to a squad car and they both climbed in.

"He stopped talking Frank… what if …"

"Milt stop. He needs to rest, think of it that way. Or, maybe he doesn't have to force himself to stay awake because he knows you're taking care of things… let's just get there, okay?"

Hardcastle finally seemed to be more alert. "Yeah, you're right… thanks."


	2. First Hours

Ch 2 - First hours

Mark heard the words from the judge and felt himself relax. He could hear the worry and concern in the judge's voice as he took charge and told him he would make sure Mark would be cared for as quickly as possible. No nonsense, no kidding, just straightforward, honest caring.

Suddenly, he felt that he could rest. Whatever happened, he wouldn't be alone, there was someone caring for him, someone he knew loved him like a son. Someone that he loved as well. He held onto him as long as he could, finally giving in to exhaustion.

H&M

They arrived at the ER and Hardcastle was immediately besieged by a nurse wanting McCormick's medical history and allergies. After giving this information, he began the arduous task of filling out the hospital admission forms.

Millie was sitting beside Frank when Milt finished and found a seat beside her.

Milt introduced them and hesitated, "I don't know how to thank you for not giving up Millie. Without you, I never would've…" he didn't want to go on.

"Please don't thank me, if you hadn't made me search…" she paused, "I'd already given up, thank God you didn't."

There didn't seem to be an answer to that, so the three of them sat waiting for word of McCormick's condition.

H&M

Matt Walker, MD, turned to watch his patient, Mark McCormick, as he was wheeled into OR #5. He'd accompanied him from the Emergency Room, as he did with all critically wounded patients. He'd gotten the young man this far, now it was up to the trauma surgeons to take over. As he walked back to the ER, he mentally prepared himself to speak to the family. He wished he could give them good news, but between the shock, the exposure and the blood loss, he knew the odds were not good.

As he approached the ER waiting area, he saw 3 people rise to meet him.

"I'm Matt Walker, the doctor in charge of the ER this morning. Are you Mr. McCormick's family?"

"Yes, how is he?" the older gentleman spoke first and looked to be in the most acute distress.

"He's alive. We stabilized him enough to get him to the operating room. They'll give him every chance they can."

Hardcastle nodded, "how bad? What are his injuries?"

_Okay, the man wanted facts, some people needed those, _he thought. "Why don't you come inside and I'll tell you what we found." As he spoke he directed them toward a small conference room. "Have a seat," he instructed, and when the three were seated, "Walker pulled up a chair himself and sat down.

"He was shot at close range and lost a lot of blood into his abdomen. I gave him 2 units of blood down here, to try to stabilize him for surgery." He paused to let the information sink in.

"Will he make it?" Hardcastle asked softly, then cleared his throat.

"I don't know, sir," Walker answered. "He was in very critical condition when he arrived. Lying outside all night added a great deal to the severity of the injuries. Also, he experienced a fall of about 20 feet, down a steep hill. I've immobilized his right arm and leg. If he's stable enough, they'll x-ray him while he's on the table so they can plan for orthopedic care. But, until the bleeding and shock is resolved and his vital signs stabilize, that will be secondary."

During the silence, Frank moved closer to Milt and put his arm around his back, not exactly touching him, but very close.

"I wish the news was better," Walker continued in a whisper. He did not offer any information about the potential for infection or the risk for kidney failure, or other problems. The family could deal with those later, if they had to. "You can go upstairs to the OR waiting area. The surgeon will speak with you after he operates, he'll know a lot more after the surgery."

Hardcastle nodded, "thank you doctor," he said, standing up and shaking the man's hand. Then he let Frank lead him out.


	3. Surgery

Ch 3 Surgery

Hardcastle paced back and forth in the surgical waiting area in silence. Visions of McCormick's body lying at the bottom of the ravine filled his mind. He tried to shut them out, but then they changed to McCormick asking him not to go to the party. He could hear his voice and see him as he tried to tie the tie while he waited for Millie to iron his shirt. Sitting there... comfortable... whole... safe. That vision was almost worse than the first, because of the guilt that settled on his mind. This was his fault, his alone.

And the pacing continued.

Somewhere during the 3rd hour, he heard Frank leave, and suddenly he felt himself being pushed into a chair and a sandwich forced into his hand.

"Eat," Frank had said.

Hardcastle ate, then stood up to pace again.

Towards the end of the 4th hour, the OR doors swung open and a tall man in green scrubs appeared.

Hardcastle turned to him and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"You're Mr. McCormick's family?"

The judge nodded.

"I'm Dr. Bell. He's in the Surgical ICU."

Milt exhaled so loudly that Frank moved close and grabbed his arm. He needn't have however, because the judge seemed to have marshalled his resources to talk to the doctor.

"How is he doing?" Milt asked.

"His condition is critical. The bullet entered his upper abdomen, went through his stomach, pancreas, and small bowel. I removed the bullet, and repaired the damage. The bleeding had essentially stopped by the time he got here, but his blood pressure dropped towards the end of the operation and I had to stop the surgery and start a medication called Dopamine to maintain it."

"The doctor in emergency said he was stabilized… why would that happen?" Hardcastle asked, struggling to understand the meaning of all these facts.

"He was in critical condition when he arrived, still in shock… that was most likely the cause," the surgeon explained.

"Did you finish the operation?"

"Yes, I've repaired the damage, and like I said, he's in the Surgical ICU. His heart rate and blood pressure are still unstable, but he was alive when I handed his care over to the staff in the SICU."

Frank moved closer to Milt again and reached behind him. He wanted to be ready if his friend needed some help to sit down. The voice he heard next was quiet, but it sounded strong.

"What about infection?"

"That's another problem. He has a fever, no surprise there, but it will complicate recovery. I'm giving him antibiotics."

"What are his chances?" Milt asked softly, afraid to hear the answer. He felt Frank touching his back.

"I couldn't even say. I'm taking it one step, one problem at a time. First we need to stabilize his blood pressure."

"Can I see him?" Milt asked.

"You can wait in the SICU waiting room and if he's able to have a visitor, they'll let you know."


	4. SICU Waiting Room

Ch 4 SICU Waiting Room

Frank took Hardcastle's arm and they followed Millie to the next waiting area.

Once they arrived, Milt glanced at his watch, "it's almost 2 o'clock, you should both go home, you've been up all night and here all day and it'll just be more waiting from here on in. I can wait here without you babysitting me."

Frank smiled and sighed, "I think I will Milt, but I'll stop back in later, okay?"

Soon he was gone, and Millie was left to wait with the judge.

"I don't suppose you could tell me whether he's going to be okay?" Hardcastle asked.

"It doesn't work like that judge. But, he's made it this far, and I think he can fight his way back."

"Yeah," Hardcastle nodded, "me too."

After a silence, he continued, "really Millie, you should take a break. I can manage all right here."

She nodded, "I know you can. I'll go now and come back tonight. Call me at home if…" she paused uncertainly.

"I'll let you know what's going on, thanks."

And then she was gone too, and he was alone. And unbidden, words from a past conversation flowed into his mind.

"_I'm scared." _

"_It's okay, you're supposed to be."_

Then, Milton C. Hardcastle, the toughest judge on the LA Superior Court Bench, leaned forward, head in his hands, and allowed a few tears to escape.

He sat like that for a long time, until he finally sighed and wiped his eyes with his hands and sniffed as he glanced around.

Thankfully, there was no one to see him like this. Then, he took out his handkerchief and wiped his face well, cleared his throat and sniffed again. All he had to do now was wait and pray that McCormick would be okay. He could handle that. He could handle no news, he could handle waiting, and he could handle good news. He refused to think about anything else. But as he sat there, other thoughts intruded on his mind.

"_What are you doing?" Hardcastle asked over the loud music as he walked into the kitchen._

"_It's called playing air guitar, judge," Mark answered as he demonstrated the "technique"._

"_I thought you were washing the dishes?" the judge said gruffly, trying not to smile at McCormick's seeming infinite ability to come up with something entertaining._

"_Does this look like washing the dishes to you?" Mark's carefree attitude was carefully calculated to irritate the judge._

"_No of course not!" Hardcastle yelled. "Why can't you just do what I ask?" _

"_They'll get washed Hardcase, don't sweat it!"_

_The judge shook his head and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his partner to handle the chores. He was smiling as he entered the den and chuckling as he sat down at his desk. The kid was really something. How could you be mad at someone who seemed so happy? _


	5. SICU

CH 5 SICU

"You can come in now," a strange voice interrupted the memory.

Milt jumped to his feet, it would be the first time he'd seen McCormick since they waited together at the bottom of the ravine. He followed the nurse through the door.

"Let's just stop here for a minute," she said as they paused in a small ante room. "My name is Shirley, I'll be his nurse until 7 o'clock tonight. I just want you to know that he won't look very much like himself. There are a lot of tubes and wires because we're watching his heart rate and blood pressure, okay?"

"I know," Hardcastle replied.

"He has a tube down his throat so we can keep his airway open. Right now the machine is breathing for him because he hasn't recovered from the anesthesia yet." She paused, "do you think you'll be okay to see him?"

Hardcastle smiled at her concern, "yeah, figured as much, but thanks for telling me."

"Then let's go in," she said and led the way into the SICU, and toward a room directly across from the nurses desk. It was brightly lit, and the nurse motioned to a chair, keeping a close eye on the judge. "You can sit here when you're ready," she continued, still watching closely, but her experience told her that he would be able to tolerate a visit. Sometimes visitors reacted badly to seeing a critically ill loved one, but this man just seemed grateful to be here.

Milt approached the bed and reached for Mark's hand, noticing the warming blanket covering his friend. The hand felt cold, and he reached to his forehead, noticing that it felt too warm.

"Come on kiddo, you've gotta fight, okay? I need ya to come back to me." He whispered these words as though they were a prayer. There was no response. After several minutes, he sat down beside the bed, his hand still squeezing Mark's hand.

The constant, regular beeping of the machines combined with exhaustion, dulled his senses and his mind began to wander.

_Rage. Blinding rage and hunger. That was what was driving him._

_He lifted the giant rock above his head. He needed to kill so they could survive._

_Hands on his arms, a voice getting through._

"_Don't judge, don't."_

_McCormick's voice._

_"Don't. Come on, we won. __We'll take em in." Again the voice, reaching through the rage._

_And he started to listen. __He lowered the rock, r__agged breathing from both of them._

_"We'll never make it, " Hardcastle heard himself again. And__ what if he couldn't keep up? He was 68 years old. What would happen to Mark if he died during the long trip out of this wilderness? How would his friend bring in 2 prisoners by himself? Mark might have to kill them, because he couldn't manage them alone. It couldn't happen if Milt killed them first..._

_"We can try…" McCormick__'s voice, pulling him back from…. what? He didn't want to think about what he'd been considering..._

_Slowly, he listened and thought about what McCormick was saying. _

_"We have to try," he thought to himself. _

_And they had brought them to justice._

_He'd saved Milt from becoming a murderer._

_And he'd never even thanked the kid._

The moan was soft, but accompanied by movement and an urgent beeping sound. Hardcastle stood up right away and leaned over the railing.

Shirley was beside the bed immediately as Mark moaned again.

"It's okay kid, settle down, you're all right," Hardcastle told him in a shaking voice as he reached down to put a hand on his head.

The beeping stopped almost immediately, and the nurse glanced up at the judge and furrowed her brow.

"Did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Calm him down? It seemed like his heart rate settled down when you started talking."

Milt was at a loss for words, he shrugged and shook his head in confusion. "I hope so," Milt whispered.

She hesitated, "the doctor said you'd probably be in the waiting room for awhile."

"Until I know he's gonna make it."

"I'm going to allow you to stay in here as much as I can."

The lump in Hardcastle's throat made it hard to speak, but he managed to thank her.

Then, he watched as McCormick seemed to relax.


	6. Shirley

Ch 6 Shirley

Shirley Finney, RN, finished assessing her patient and returned to the nurses desk, where she stood watching the scene at her patient's bedside. As she watched Hardcastle speak to her patient again, her eyes flitted up to the screen on the wall that displayed his vital signs. He had been in very critical condition when he was wheeled in directly from the operating suite. His vital signs had been very unstable, and she had been administering medications, and monitoring their effect constantly for the past 2 hours.

The decision to allow a visitor in for even a brief 10 minute length of time had been a difficult one to make. However, since Mr. McCormick's condition seemed so critical, she and Dr. Bell, the surgeon, had decided it would be better for loved ones to know how bad things looked in case they were unable to save him.

But, what she was seeing now, made her believe they should have let this man back much sooner. Since he had begun speaking to her patient, the blood pressure fluctuations had lessened considerably and his pulse rate had come down to 120, the best it had been since his arrival.

She moved toward the bed as she saw John Canton, one of the new residents approach her patient.

"Sir, I need to ask you to leave," Canton said to Hardcastle.

Immediately the judge started to rise.

Shirley came to the bedside quickly, "Judge please stay. I'd like you to tell him he's improving, I'd like him to hear your voice." She turned to Canton, "John, if you could just step over here for a moment."

Hardcastle could see that the doctor was annoyed, but couldn't spend the time to consider it. Instead, he reached for McCormick's hand again and leaned close to him as he squeezed it.

"Did you hear that kiddo? They say you're doin better, you're improving… just keep fighting McCormick, I … I need you kiddo."


	7. Doctors and Nurses

Ch 7 Doctors and Nurses

"Isn't it time for his visitor to leave? The man looked like he was settling in," Dr. John Canton said, as they reached the desk and he turned suddenly to address the nurse. He was one of the new residents, rotating through all the ICUs.

"He started to improve as soon as the judge spoke to him," Shirley explained.

Canton looked at her strangely, "are you trying to tell me that guy is having more of an effect on his vital signs than the meds are?" He chuckled in a condescending tone as he shook his head.

Shirley frowned and answered, "hearing is the last sense to go, he might be able to hear even though he's critical, especially since the anesthesia is starting to wear off... and I never said the meds weren't important," she answered.

"There's no way he can hear."

"You've been here 3 weeks John, and I've been here 12 years. And during those 12 years I've seen some amazing things. And if having that man around seems to be helping my patient, I don't mind having him around. And yes he's been here more than 10 minutes."

"I'll report this."

"He isn't in anybody's way," Shirley answered and turned her gaze back to her patient. Early July through December was always more difficult than the rest of the year. Here at this teaching hospital, a brand new crop of first year residents rotated through the various critical care units every 6 weeks. They started out thinking that the doctors ran things, but they would learn eventually that it was a division of labor, a cooperative effort. But some of them had a lot of attitude to get over first.

John Canton caught sight of Allen Jennings, MD, one of the attending physicians, as he entered the unit. He walked away from Shirley and approached Dr. Jennings. As the lead physician of the SICU, he was responsible for all the care that was given.

"Excuse me Dr. Jennings, there's a visitor here that I'd like to discuss with you."

Shirley sighed with relief and turned her attention back to her patient. Twelve years ago, both she and Allen Jennings had been new to this unit. They had oriented together and worked closely off and on over the years. She was confident that Allen would handle Canton's complaint in private in the nearby conference room and that he would tell the new doctor to value the nurses' judgement.

"He might be able to hear you judge, that's why I want you to stay," Shirley explained as she approached the bed again and lifted the sheet to check the dressing on McCormick's abdomen. "Tell him my name is Shirley and I'm his nurse, and I'm never more than 10 feet away, and keep telling him that he's improving."

Hardcastle smiled, "Ya hear that kiddo?" he began, and proceeded to repeat everything she'd said. Then he told Mark that he wasn't alone.

As he was speaking, Shirley checked every tube, and monitor setting, then took hold of a syringe that was attached to one of the IVs and pushed a small amount of medication into the tubing. Normally she would be talking to her patient as she worked, but she was glad that the judge was able to do it.

McCormick's surgery had been cut short because his vital signs had been so unstable. When he had first arrived in the unit, two nurses had been assigned to him, something that was only done with very critical patients. It had taken them almost 2 hours of constant interventions to bring him far enough along to allow family to visit, and then, the feeling was that he wouldn't make it. His improvement since the judge's arrival couldn't be discounted. In her opinion, her patient could hear, even if he might not understand or remember it later, and if the sound of a familiar voice helped calm him in some way, she was all for it. Earlier, she had thought she would be spending part of her shift supporting a grieving family. But now, she could see and measure improvement, and that gave her an adrenaline rush. This was why she did the work that she did.


	8. Goals

Ch 8 Goals

Milt continued to talk to Mark, and as the minutes stretched into an hour, and then to two hours, he watched as Shirley turned the ventilator from a "demand" to an "as needed" setting, and he kept telling McCormick he was doing better.

"He's breathing some on his own now," Shirley told Hardcastle, "the anesthesia is starting to wear off."

Suddenly, Mark moaned and moved slightly. The beeps sounded again, bringing Shirley beside him immediately.

"Easy kiddo, you're okay," Milt said, putting his hand gently on Mark's chest.

"I'm going to give him a small dose of pain medicine," Shirley explained, staring at the heart monitor, "keep talking to him, he's closer to being awake now, but I want to keep him under until the tube can come out of his throat."

Dr. Bell and Dr. Canton moved closer to observe the patient.

"Just take it easy kiddo, you're really giving Shirley here a run for her money," Hardcastle began, and once again, Shirley noticed his pulse slowed and the blood pressure fluctuations settled down.

"How is he doing?" Bell asked Shirley as she administered the pain med while Canton looked on.

"He blew right past my goal," she answered with a smile and then continued, "I wanted his pulse rate to be under 125 and the BP fluctuations less than 40 mmHg by 5 o'clock. Just take a look."

"Ambitious goals when you made them, I recall," Bell answered as he approached the bed and placed a stethoscope on McCormick's chest.

"I can leave," Milt began.

"No, no, no need for that," Bell said quickly, holding up his hand.

"And he's almost at the lowest end of the dosage range for the dopamine. I'd like to try tapering him off of it altogether," Shirley continued.

"I'll write the order," Bell answered. "How's his temp?"

"101."

"Let's give the antibiotics a little more time to work. Anything else Canton?" Bell quizzed the resident.

"I think you've got all the bases covered," Canton said confidently.

"Shirley?" Bell asked. Canton looked away and very briefly rolled his eyes. Shirley noticed, but didn't acknowledge it.

"I'd like ortho to take a look at his leg films," she answered.

"I'll put in a consult, anything else?"

"His urine output is borderline, I'd like to keep weaning him off the dopamine, but I want his kidneys perfused."

"Good, I'll order something for that so you can work on reducing the dopamine. Anything else?"

"Once he's off the dopamine and we know he's stable, I'd like the next goal to be extubation. He's breathing on his own most of the time now."

"I agree, anything else?"

"No, that's it," Shirley answered.

"Great job, I'll write those orders," Bell said as he walked away to check on another patient. Canton trailed along behind him.

Hardcastle watched the discussion, and saw Canton's astonished expression while Shirley was speaking. _I've seen his type before. Just like a rookie attorney_, he thought, _he doesn't know as much as he thought he did._

"You put him in his place," Milt acknowledged.

"Canton? Yeah. He'll be okay, but I can't say I'll miss him when he rotates out next month," Shirley answered. "Listen, you look like you could use a break, I'm gonna keep him unconscious for awhile more. Why don't you grab a cup of coffee and try to relax for a bit. I need to change his position and do some other things too."

"Can you say for sure if he's gonna make it yet?" The question was out before Hardcastle could stop himself. He didn't want to put her on the spot and wasn't sure she could even answer that question. He wasn't sure he wanted to know either. It was a strange duality, he needed to know, but was afraid to find out.

Shirley understood the need and answered honestly. "Not yet, not for sure, but he's moving in the right direction."


	9. A Break

Ch 9 A Break

Milt sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn't thought of resting, but suddenly realized how tired he was. Between searching for McCormick all night, and finding him this morning, waiting anxiously for so long in the ER, and then for the surgery to be over; he had been going non-stop. He did need a break, so he nodded and walked out through the waiting area to the rest of the hospital.

He made his way toward the cafeteria and sat down at a table alone, with a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. He tried to will himself to relax; his stomach had been tied up in knots for most of the day. He sat quietly for a few moments, thinking first that he should probably contact Sonny, but second that he didn't have the energy. Anyway, other than blindly calling nightclubs in New Jersey, he didn't know how. But none of that mattered, because all he could think of doing right now was staying close to the kid and helping if he could.

Guilt settled heavily on his heart as he sat there. This was all his fault. Even if he hadn't believed in Millie's prediction himself, McCormick had, partly anyway, and something like that was bound to change his reactions, perhaps making it more dangerous for him and more likely for the prediction to come true.

No matter how he thought about it, he never should have let McCormick go to that party.

_He closed his eyes, and suddenly he was looking out the window of the main house at his new ex con. They had just returned from Las Vegas the previous week after capturing Martin Cody. _

_He watched as McCormick turned off the lawn mower. His anger rose quickly, any laziness needed to be stopped immediately and he would head outside to start that lesson, bad habits weren't going to be allowed on his watch. But before he turned away from the window, he saw McCormick bend down and pick something up. It was a turtle, and Milt's jaw had dropped as he watched the ex con hold the reptile up to his face and talk to it. Then, he watched as the kid walked over to the shady side of the yard and placed the turtle gently under a bush, safely out of the way of the mower. A moment later, the mower started up again and the kid had gone back to work. _

Milt smiled at the memory, and realized that he had known fairly early on that he had lucked out with McCormick, that he had a diamond in the rough on his hands. The next week he'd noticed a library book about turtles on a table in the gatehouse. He'd never said anything to McCormick about what he'd seen, but he had never forgotten it either.

He shook his head and glanced down at his watch, then started in on the soup. He finished the bowl, and nursed the coffee for another few minutes before heading back to the SICU. They buzzed him in immediately and he took up his position next to Mark once again.


	10. Fever

Ch 10 Fever

The kid was lying on his right side now. The tube was still in his throat and Hardcastle could barely stand to look at it. He rested one hand on Mark's head and the other on his shoulder, almost encircling him in an embrace.

"How're you doin kiddo?" he whispered, glad to be back so he could know what was happening. Of course there was no answer.

"He's been stable since you've been gone," Shirley offered as she approached. "Now that you're back, I'd like to try decreasing the dopamine again and see if he can maintain his blood pressure.

"What can I do?"

"Just talk to him," she answered and punched the buttons on a machine attached to the IV tubing.

Over the next hour, each time the dose was decreased, McCormick's blood pressure would drop, and Milt would talk to him until it stabilized.

"Judge, I think you should sit down and rest for awhile," Shirley announced at 6 o'clock. McCormick had been quiet since the last adjustment to the dopamine drip, so Milt nodded and settled into the reclining chair Shirley had brought in earlier. He wasn't planning on sleeping and would get up at the first sign of trouble if there was any. McCormick wasn't out of the woods yet, and it looked like it was going to be a long night.

Shirley smiled and stood back, surveying her patient for a moment. Satisfied with what she saw, she approached him again and began her next assessment.

Forty-five minutes later a monitor beeped and Milt jerked awake and moved to the bedside. But McCormick was quiet, so he shook his head to clear it and rubbed his face. "What happened?" he asked Shirley.

"It was the next bed, sorry it interrupted your rest."

Relief flooded through him, then concern as he watched several staff members bustling around a patient in the next bed. Then relief again when he looked back at McCormick.

"How's he doing?" he asked, placing his hand on Mark's forehead, "still feels hot."

"His BP and pulse have been stable, his fever is up a little," she answered.

"How high?"

"102.2, Dr Bell ordered another antibiotic through the IV and I hung it 10 minutes ago."

"Thanks for all you've done, all you're doing."

"Why don't you rest some more?" Shirley suggested.

The judge shook his head, despite the short time he'd rested, he felt surprisingly fresh. It must be because of the adrenaline rush that had woken him up. It felt good to be on his feet and close to the kid. He leaned on the side rail and watched Mark's chest rise and fall, as, despite his best intentions, more memories came to mind.


	11. Memory

Ch 11 Memory

_The music hadn't been all that loud by the time it reached Milt Hardcastle's ears in his den, but it still interfered with his concentration. He had been studying a file that he thought would be their next case, but now he stood up and marched to the kitchen window to see what his newest ex con, Mark McCormick was up to before he went out there yelling at him to turn the music down. It wasn't even that it was unpleasant music, he actually liked some of the stuff the kid had played since he moved in 6 weeks ago, but the loudness was unacceptable._

_He pushed the kitchen curtain aside and stared at McCormick. He was moving his head back and forth in time to the beat, obviously singing along. _

_A smile snuck onto Hardcastle's face. "He sure knows how to enjoy life," he had thought to himself._

_Just then McCormick started clipping the hedges in time to the beat and Hardcastle laughed out loud and shook his head. How was he going to go out there and yell at him when he couldn't stop smiling?_

Hardcastle shook his head. How could he have ever predicted their friendship? Who would have ever guessed that he would come to think of McCormick not only as a friend, but as a son? That he would mean as much to him as any flesh and blood son ever could? He could honestly say that he wasn't sure he could survive it if McCormick died. He'd never told him that. Why couldn't he tell him?

He pondered that for a moment.

_Because that wasn't the deal in the beginning, and now that my feelings have changed, I don't know how to tell him what he means to me. I could never say those words. It would be too embarrassing._

_Why else?_

_Maybe he doesn't feel the same way. After all, McCormick didn't have much of a choice in our arrangement. He wanted to get Cody and stay out of prison. He'd chased the bad guys and done everything else because I told him to. _

_Why else?_

_His parole is almost up. It's too late to say anything now, it would seem like I was begging him to stay. It would seem like I needed him. And I could never let that even appear to be true._

_Why couldn't I?_


	12. Sandra

Ch 12 Sandra

"Judge Hardcastle?" Shirley asked.

"Huh?"

"This is Sandra, she's taking over for me and will be here until 7 am. My shift is over now. I've filled Sandra in on everything."

Milt stood up, unable to think of how to thank Shirley for all she'd done.

Finally, a simple thank you was all he could muster, and Shirley smiled and squeezed his shoulder as she walked out. "I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said.

Milt looked at Sandra. She was a bit younger, with long blonde hair pulled up into a bun and she smiled at him.

"I want you to know that you can leave any time if you need a break, or want to go home. It's going to be a long night for you just sitting here," Sandra said.

"Is he out of the woods yet? Will he be okay?"

"He's still improving, but he's not out of danger yet," she answered honestly.

"Then I'm staying. I'm gonna be here."

"Okay. My next goal is to get the breathing tube out. I'm going to disconnect the ventilator, and we can see how he does."

Hardcastle nodded, and watched her pull the connection off the tube.

"Hang in there kiddo," he told McCormick as he watched. There was no change in his condition.

"Now we wait," Sandra told him. "Usually on the first try, we only get a few minutes, so don't worry if he can't handle it. We'll keep trying and his body will kick in and start to work."

"There's another visitor for Mr. McCormick in the waiting area."

Milt turned and acknowledged the secretary who had spoken.

"Tell them I'll be out as soon as I can," he told her, then glanced at Sandra.

"So far so good," she said, glancing at the monitor. McCormick's pulse had increased but seemed to be holding.

"You're doing good kiddo, just breathe nice and easy, just breathe, nice and easy." The judge kept repeating these words as the minutes passed.

For the next ten minutes there was no change in condition, then suddenly the pulse rate soared and the alarm was sounding.

Sandra quickly reattached the machine and Hardcastle kept talking.

McCormick settled down quickly though the judge looked beaten. "I thought you could just take these things out?" he said softly.

"Sometimes we can, but not always. The operation was a long one and he's been on some pretty heavy duty meds. I know it's hard to believe, but this went very well. I think Shirley was right when she said your voice was getting through."

The judge nodded and tried to keep positive thoughts.

"We'll try again in an hour. Things look good here now, why don't you see who's in the waiting room.

The judge nodded and leaned down to McCormick. "I'll be back soon kiddo."


	13. Visitors

Ch 13 Visitors

"How is he?" Millie asked as Milt entered the waiting area.

Hardcastle acknowledged her as Frank arrived and moved to sit down.

"You look beat Milt," Frank observed.

The judge rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, "I am, that's for sure."

"How's Mark doing?" Frank asked. There was a long silence before Hardcastle answered.

"He's hanging on. They say he's improving, but they still aren't sure he's gonna make it." He took a deep breath. "It seems to help when I talk to him so they're letting me stay."

Silence.

"I just wish I could hear him complain about something," Milt finally voiced the wish that had been on his mind for so long.

"I know," Frank whispered.

They sat together in silence.

"Why don't you let me take you home for a break?" Frank asked.

"Thanks, but as crazy as it sounds, I think I'm helping him. It's nuts Frank, he's not even awake, but when I talk to him his pulse and blood pressure get better. Even the nurses noticed it. And I feel something too, like I'm reaching him somehow… I don't know, it's crazy."

"No it's not judge," Millie interrupted, "I can feel the energy coming from you, strong emotions create a lot of energy. I know you don't believe in things like that, but I know Mark can feel it too. I'm sure of it. You're the only family each other has and you have a strong connection because of that, whether you believe it or not."

"After seeing you find him….I don't know what I believe any more. But I know what I feel… you may be right. If you can feel my energy, can you feel his?"

She shook her head. "But I expect you can, if you try."

_If I try? This is the craziest thing I've ever heard of_, Hardcastle thought. Yet, Millie had found the spot above the ravine, and he never would've believed that would happen.

Frank looked skeptical, but didn't say anything.

"You don't know how we found him Frank. If you did, you wouldn't look like that," Milt told him, noticing the expression of disbelief.

"Whatever helps Milt, really…" Frank paused uncertainly and Hardcastle smiled his appreciation.

"That's how I was before we left for that damned party. But, Millie showed me something different." Then he turned to her and asked, "How do I try to reach him?"

"Focus your thoughts on him."

"That's all I've been doing Millie."

"At the same time, try to feel his energy, his mind. Search for that. Focus on receiving that."

Hardcastle sighed. "Sounds impossible."

"So was finding him," she reminded.

"Not for you, but this is me we're talking about now."

"I know you can do it. Please just try," she whispered.

Hardcastle grunted.

"Thanks for checking in, but I need to get back in there. I'm not leaving until someone will tell me that he's gonna make it."

"Keep me posted, call any time, okay?" Frank offered.

"I will, thanks Frank."

And soon both of them had departed and Milt headed back into the SICU.


	14. The Connection

Ch 14 The Connection

Mark was still lying very quietly. Milt leaned over the rail and focused on him and closed his eyes. To any observer, it would look like he was praying, and normally he would never want to show an outward display like that. But he would rather have someone assume that, than have them know what he was actually doing. "I'm here kiddo," he thought forcefully, and then he strained to feel something, anything.

Mark McCormick floated in a heavy fog that seemed to be pulling him down a dark tunnel. Nothing surrounded him but fear and a painful sensation that seemed to come and go. Where was he? How long had he been here, in this place that seemed like it had existed forever? He didn't know, and he didn't know how to escape.

Then he felt the touch… no, it wasn't a physical touch, it was a feeling, something new in this scary place. Hardcastle was here too, but where? He sent his mind out in search of the connection and felt it even stronger, it was real.

He calmed and felt himself rise just a bit.

And the connection continued and he felt himself getting stronger as the hours passed.

Milton Hardcastle had always been a logical man. Clairvoyance was not logical to him and he had never believed in that sort of thing. Yet, when Mark was missing, he'd made Millie use her 'gift' in order to find him, even though he didn't believe she really had a 'gift'.

"Like an atheist in a foxhole," he thought. "When the chips are really down, you'll believe anything." And the chips were really down now.

So he concentrated on Mark, trying to send his own mind out in search of the young man and trying to sense Mark's mind in return. He crossed his arms over the side rail of the bed and lowered his head to concentrate, glad that no one could tell what he was doing, it would have been too embarrassing to explain, but he kept doing it anyway.

Suddenly his head jerked up. What had he felt? He wasn't sure. "Keep fighting, I need you," he thought hard into the ether.

"Judge?" It was so clear that he opened his eyes and stared at Mark's face. The tube was still in place, and he wasn't awake. He couldn't have spoken.

"I'm here," he sent with intense concentration.

"I knew you'd come. I waited so long…" this message was even clearer.

"You're gonna be okay, keep fighting, I love you…" the honesty of his message couldn't be controlled, it just spilled out of him.

"I'm scared... don't leave…" gradually the essence of the message stopped.

The sensations ended.

Milt opened his eyes and stared at Mark.

"Did you do anything just now?" Hardcastle asked Sandra.

"The pain med was starting to wear off, I gave him another dose. I don't want him waking up until the breathing tube is out."

The judge nodded and smiled to himself. _Please kiddo, you've gotta come back to me_, he thought.

"I'm going to disconnect the ventilator again," Sandra said, and quickly she did just that. This time Mark's vital signs remained stable for almost a half hour.

"He's doing great," she told the judge as she reconnected him. "We'll try again in an hour."

And so the rest of the evening and night went.


	15. Nighttime Memories: Part 1

Ch 15 Nighttime Memories Part 1

Another set of doctors made rounds at midnight, no change in the orders.

As 2 am approached, the judge reached over to feel McCormick's forehead. He was still hot, though maybe a bit better than it had been. As he sat back in the chair, his thoughts drifted off to another time, and another fever.

_Judge Hardcastle glanced out the window to watch his yard man, Tonto, and general helper as he walked from the Gatehouse to the kitchen door. _

"_Crazy kid doesn't have any sense," he whispered to himself as he noticed that McCormick wore only a t-shirt._

_It had been raining for the past 3 days, and the temperatures had been unseasonably low, making for a very cool, raw feel to the morning. Once again, there would be no outdoor chores, but Hardcastle was determined that McCormick would make up for the last 2 days of light chores by cleaning and reorganizing the basement. He'd been looking forward to telling Mark, and seeing the look on his face. The kid had definitely had it too easy for the past 2 days. _

_It was true that he'd been working on the truck and the Vette inside the garage quite a bit, but it was also true that Mark enjoyed that type of work and that it wasn't exactly a job to him, it seemed more like a hobby. In fact, the harder they were on the truck, the more he seemed to enjoy fixing it. Within the past 2 days he'd replaced the entire front end, tie rod ends, ball joints, and brakes._

_Mark pushed the door open and entered, as a gust of wind lifted the morning paper off the table._

"_Close that door!" Hardcastle groused loudly._

"_Sorry," McCormick answered as he closed the door._

_Hardcastle scanned him up and down, "look at you, you're soaked!"_

_Mark poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down._

"_You sure aren't dressed for the weather," the judge tried again, hoping to get a rise out of the kid. He seemed too quiet._

"_I'm dressed fine judge."_

_Silence._

"_Well, here's some breakfast, better eat up, cause you've got a lot of work ahead of you today." he watched for a response._

"_What kind of work?" Mark asked in an angry tone._

"_Don't take that tone with me, you're gonna clean out the basement, that's what."_

"_That mess? Why today?"_

"_Because I say so!"_

_How was Hardcastle supposed to know how sick McCormick was when he didn't complain? But, the judge could now admit that even if he had known that early in the day, he probably wouldn't have cut him any slack._

_Instead, Hardcastle had stared at his newest ex-con and narrowed his eyes. Long before McCormick had come here, before he'd begun this project of his, he'd vowed that he wouldn't coddle the ex cons he would take in. He'd believed that most of them had been coddled while they were growing up and had never had to pay the consequences for their actions. He'd gone out of his way to tell Barbara Johnson that right in front of McCormick during their first case, so that he wouldn't expect any special privileges or concessions. Their relationship was one of employer and employee, boss and worker, nothing more. _

_But, since then there had been several times he'd had to remind himself of those limits, especially when McCormick had stood beside him and confessed about breaking into the police impound. It seemed that this kid had a way of getting to him that none of the others had had._

_So it was, that even though Hardcastle could see that McCormick didn't feel well, he was not about to go easy on him regarding the work he expected to be done on that day so long ago._

_Mark finished the orange juice and a tall glass of water, then stood up, "I'll get started then," he said as he made his way to the basement door. "You'll have to give me some direction about what you want straightened up and filed or thrown out."_

_Hardcastle followed him into the basement, amazed that there was no further argument. _

_The judge stood in the far corner of the basement, issuing orders about the shelves he wanted cleaned out and which new items he wanted placed on them. To his surprise, McCormick began to work._

_Hardcastle checked on his progress throughout the morning and by 11am he was still at it when Hardcastle came down to inspect his work. Mark had looked unexpectedly pleased when he realized the judge was impressed._

_As he straightened up, he had reached out for the shelves to steady himself._

"_All right McCormick, I know you're sick," the judge had said, surprised at the concern he felt seep into his mind. "What's wrong with you?" he asked and compensated for his concern with an unnecessarily harsh tone._

_McCormick looked at him and sighed. "Yeah, I'm sick. So?"_

_Hardcastle remembered staring at him in disbelief._

"_So, why aren't you complaining? Or trying to get out of work?" The harsh tone continued._

"_I figured that's something that would be filed under 'I don't give a damn'," he answered and Hardcastle was surprised that there was no animosity in his voice. _

"_You looked kinda unsteady there when you stood up just now," the judge's tone was kinder._

"_Yeah, I think I need some water."_

"_You didn't eat any breakfast."_

"_I wasn't hungry."_

_The judge could feel his concern growing despite his vow never to get too close to one of the ex cons in his custody. And he had laid it on the line with McCormick right from the start, he wasn't looking for them to be buddies. _

_But still, there was something about this one that was different. He was a puzzle, one that Hardcastle wanted to solve. Finally he spoke._

"_Why don't you come up and have a drink and try to eat something?"_

_McCormick nodded and started for the stairs. "Yeah, I think I need a break before I finish this," he admitted._

_The judge followed his newest project, as he climbed the stairs and went into the kitchen. His first stop was the sink, where he took a long drink, then leaned over and splashed some cold water on his face and the back of his neck._

"_Okay, wise guy, that's enough," Hardcastle spoke loudly._

"_Huh?"_

_But instead of answering him, the judge headed into the hallway and returned a few minutes later with a thermometer._

"_Sit," he ordered, then "under your tongue," and he slid the thermometer into McCormick's mouth._

_Mark took it out to speak, "doesn't matter what it is judge, it'll go down in a day or so."_

"_Put it back," Hardcastle ordered, wondering why this ex con wasn't asking for the day off._

_After 3 minutes, Hardcastle removed the thermometer, read it and glanced at McCormick._

"_You take any aspirin yet?"_

_Mark shook his head, "didn't have anything."_

"_Just sit there," Hardcastle ordered and left again as Mark folded his arms on the table and leaned forward to put his head down._

_Hardcastle returned a few minutes later with a bottle of aspirin._

"_Hey," he said, but there was no response. In an uncharacteristic gesture, he put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "Come on, wake up and take this," he encouraged and Mark raised his head and followed the instructions._

"_Now, come into the den and lie down," the judge ordered._

"_I should get back to work…"_

"_You haven't eaten yet hotshot."_

"_I'm not really hungry judge."_

"_You can rest in the den," Hardcastle said as he ushered him up and through the door._

_Mark hadn't needed much encouragement to stretch out on the couch in the den._

"_Wake me when it's time to get back to work," he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes. _

"_Here, drink," the judge's words were spoken as he pressed a glass against his lips. The juice was swallowed quickly, with a quiet 'thanks' before the kid had drifted back to sleep._


	16. Nighttime Memories: Part 2

_Ch 16 Nighttime Memories Part 2_

_Hardcastle had glanced down worriedly at McCormick as he curled up on the couch. It had been quite awhile since he'd cared for anyone with a fever over 102. He couldn't believe that McCormick had been working in the basement all morning without complaint. He always complained… well, that impression might not have been completely accurate. That would have to be modified, but to what? He reviewed everything he'd observed and known about the kid, trying to figure him out._

_So what was McCormick all about anyway? He was always talking. He complained when things were fine, just to have something to argue about. He had a lot of energy and enjoyed annoying his employer._

_But when he didn't have any energy, when things needed to be done, he didn't expect any special treatment. He wasn't expecting anyone to give him a break._

_That didn't seem like someone who'd been coddled as a kid. Maybe he had made a wrong assumption. Maybe the kid hadn't been coddled while he was growing up at all, maybe just the opposite._

_He picked up the phone and called Charlie Friedman, the family doctor._

_H&M_

_Mark McCormick slowly opened his eyes. It was easy to see that every muscle ached as he sat up, but when he realized he was in the judge's den, he'd glanced around in confusion. Then he'd tried to stand up, and then sat down again as a wave of dizziness swept over him._

"_Charlie said its best to move slow, you're still dehydrated."_

_Mark watched as Hardcastle stood up, "Charlie?" he asked uncertainly._

_Hardcastle handed him a glass of Gatorade, "drink this," he ordered._

_Mark downed it quickly, "thanks."_

"_Family doctor. I talked to him after you laid down. He says he's seen a lot of this virus in his office this week. You need to sleep it off and stay hydrated."_

"_It's okay if I don't finish the basement today?" Mark had asked in disbelief._

"_Course it's okay. You can't sleep and clean at the same time."_

_Mark stood up slowly, "I'll just go back to the Gatehouse then.."_

"_You're goin upstairs," Hardcastle interrupted him._

"_Upstairs?"_

"_Come on kiddo," Hardcastle took him by the arm and motioned with his head toward the staircase. _

"_Judge, I'll be fine in the Gatehouse, you don't have to…"_

"_Don't be stupid McCormick, the bed in the Gatehouse is a staircase away from the bathroom and the kitchen," Hardcastle interrupted again. "And you don't look steady enough for a flight of stairs without some help._

"_Your Honor?" Sarah appeared from the hall with a tray as they started up the stairs._

"_Bring it upstairs Sarah," the judge said._

_Mark was exhausted by the time he sat on the bed in the guest room._

"_Drink," Hardcastle ordered again as he handed another glass of Gatorade to the ex con. "And here's some more aspirin."_

_Thirst easily won out over exhaustion and Mark obeyed without argument, then crawled under the covers, grateful for the time to rest quietly._

_H&M_

_Mark opened his eyes and stared at the glass of water on the bedside table. He was soaking wet, and so was his t-shirt, the pillowcase and the sheet. He sat up in bed slowly as a wave of dizziness came over him and forced him to lay back. _

"_You need to drink, Charlie said the dehydration would take a day or two to get over," Hardcastle's voice filled the room and McCormick turned to look next to the bed._

"_How long you been sittin there?" he asked as he rubbed his forehead and then the back of his neck._

"_A few minutes. It's been 4 hours since you had the aspirin so I thought you'd be waking up soon."_

"_I'll get to work as soon as I get my bearings judge."_

"_Haven't you heard a word I said? It'll take you at least 2 days to get over this."_

"_I can work when I'm sick."_

"_Do you always have to argue? And you're always complaining, trying to get out of work. Why all of a sudden is it so important to work?"_

_Mark smiled, "It's all part of my strategy to get you confused," he quipped as he lay back down._

"_No you don't," Hardcastle said, "take this and drink," and he handed him two aspirin and another glass of Gatorade. _

"_So, are ya gonna answer my question?" he asked as he watched the ex con finish the drink._

"_What question?" McCormick answered, keeping his eyes closed as he lay back._

"_Why are you always complaining about work, but now you can't wait to get to work. Is it because you know I won't make you? That why you're acting so willing?" Hardcastle crossed his arms over his chest, satisfied that he had figured it out. Since he wouldn't make McCormick work, it was a good time to act like he was willing to."_

_Silence._

"_That's not it judge."_

"_What is it then?"_

"_I can complain as long as I know I can do the work. But now that I know I can't, I'm kinda at your mercy. You can send me back if I can't work, so I better try to do it."_

_More silence._

"_I'm not gonna send you back if you're sick McCormick," Hardcastle said._

"_Well, no one else has ever given me a break when I was sick, so why would I think you would?"_

_Hardcastle leaned back in the chair and stared at McCormick's still form on the bed. Slowly he became aware that the ex con was asleep again._

_At 10:30 pm, Hardcastle glanced at his watch, thinking he should call it an early night so he'd have an excuse to be upstairs, close to the guest room. He shook his head, amazed that a thought like that had even entered his mind. _

The light dimmed, bringing Hardcastle out of his memories. He looked up at the figure that had suddenly appeared on the other side of the bed. Sandra was checking the IV and taking Mark's pulse. Hardcastle smiled to himself, he liked the fact that she had her hands on the kid. He'd always felt that there was a lot you could tell from touch, that you couldn't know from the numbers displayed by a machine, no matter how sophisticated the machine. Then he stood up and waited until she was done.

"How's he doing?" he whispered.

"Still improving," she whispered back.

At 3 am, Mark's fever dropped to normal.

At 4 am the ventilator was again disconnected, and stayed off.


	17. Waking Up

Ch 17 Waking Up

It was to that situation, that Shirley returned at 7 am.

"You look exhausted judge," Shirley greeted Hardcastle.

"I guess I am. But he's doin good, isn't he?"

"He's doing good," she agreed. "I'm going to have the anesthesiologist remove the breathing tube," she explained. And before Milt knew what was happening, the tube was out and McCormick looked a lot more like himself.

"We've been giving him pain medication to keep him under because of the tube, but now I'm going to let the meds wear off a bit and give him a chance to wake up."

"Do you know if he's going to make it yet?" Hardcastle asked anxiously.

"Only Dr. Bell can answer that question. He'll be making rounds soon," she answered. She couldn't bring herself to tell the man that there was a chance even if McCormick woke up, he might have long lasting negative effects. The blood loss and tissue damage had been so severe, that they just couldn't be sure. She knew that he wanted to know if his friend would be okay, but the truth was, no one would know until he woke up and his brain functioning could be assessed..

Milt leaned over the bed rail again and quickly focused his mind on his friend.

"_I'm here kiddo, I need you, I need to know you're okay," he thought._

Silence.

"_I'm here Mark, I love you."_

"_Judge? Is it really you?"_ the thought was weak, but definitely there.

"_I'm here, you aren't alone."_

"_Everything hurts...I'm so tired…_" it seemed weaker still.

_"Just keep fighting, I'm waiting for you so don't give up,"_ Hardcastle thought and looked up to the monitor. The pulse and BP numbers seemed stable, and Shirley was calmly keeping an eye on things. It didn't look like she had any idea of what he was doing.

"_You're doing good McCormick, you're gonna make it… save your strength, you hear me?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Okay, then just listen to me, okay?"_

"_Okay judge."_

"_You're gonna wake up soon, and I'm right here sitting next to you. I know it hurts, but you're gonna get better and I'll be with you all the way."_

Silence for five minutes.

Then he heard it.

"Judge?" the voice croaked weakly, and it was the best sound Hardcastle could ever remember hearing.

"I'm right here kiddo. Right next to ya. You're gonna be okay."

Mark opened his eyes and turned toward the voice.

"Just rest," Hardcastle whispered.

"Throat hurts," he managed to say with some difficulty.

"Here's some ice chips," Shirley said, handing the judge a cup and spoon.

"Here ya go, Shirley's still taking good care of you," he said as he spooned a small chip into Mark's mouth.

The cool water soothed his burning throat and he closed his eyes briefly.

"Hospital?" Mark asked, trying to get his bearings.

"Yeah. The bullet's out. You've even got your very own nurse."

Mark forced his eyes to open. "Where?" he asked and turned his head toward Shirley's voice.

"Right here next to you Mark. I gave you just a small dose of the pain medicine so you could wake up a bit."

"Is the judge okay?" McCormick asked hesitantly.

"Hey, kiddo?" Hardcastle said immediately, worry in his voice, "I'm right here." As he spoke he squeezed Mark's hand until he turned his head and their eyes met.

"They wanted to kill you too…"

"I'm fine McCormick, don't worry about me."

"You were in the fog… I thought you were dead," Mark whispered. Then he closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep.

Milt's eyes found Shirley's before he spoke, "he seemed confused," he said worriedly.

"Don't worry about it, he probably won't remember any of this. The most important thing right now is that the breathing tube is out, and his vital signs are stable. He's still improving."

The judge nodded. It was probably better that McCormick didn't remember any of this anyway.


	18. Morning Rounds

Ch 18 Morning Rounds

Morning rounds brought Dr. Bell to McCormick's bedside and Hardcastle was asked to wait outside. He paced back and forth, wondering what they could be doing in there for so long.

"What's going on?" Millie's voice asked as she suddenly appeared beside him.

"Waiting. Just like I've been doing for the past 24 hours."

"It's been that long since we found him," she said and the judge nodded and stared at the door.

"Have you gotten any sleep?"

"I dozed off a few times."

"You can't keep up like this judge."

He nodded, "I know, but I have to stay until they can say for sure that he's gonna be okay."

"Did you do it?" Millie asked and Milt knew exactly what she was asking.

He considered lying to her, not admitting what had happened, but as he looked at the concern on her face, he to acknowledge the truth.

He nodded. "Somehow Millie… I did it… we actually connected."

Millie smiled, "I'm sure you were a great comfort to him."

"Yeah, I think so."

Silence.

"Do you think he'll remember?" Hardcastle asked.

"I don't know your honor, but I'm sure it helped him."

"Mr. Hardcastle?" Dr. Bell's voice pulled Milt's gaze away from Millie.

"How's he doing?"

"I think he's turned the corner. I expect him to recover," Bell said, knowing that was really the question.

Hardcastle smiled in relief.

"Thanks doc, that's great," he said.

"Well, it was a team effort, and at times it seemed that you were just as much a part of the team as we were."

"Well, you were still great," Hardcastle was beside himself. The feeling was so profound that he didn't even know how to respond.

"My advice to you is to go home, get some sleep, and be back here this evening to visit," then he shook hands with the judge and disappeared back into the ICU.

"Good advice judge, you'd better take it."

"I'll just let him know I'm going," the judge murmured as he reentered the ICU.

He walked over to McCormick's bedside and stared down at him. He looked to be sleeping peacefully, so he reached for his hand, squeezing it as he whispered. "Get some rest kiddo. I'll be back tonight."

It was with a lighter step and a smile he couldn't hide, that he left the hospital with Millie, allowing her to drive him home. Once there, he called Frank to share the good news, set his alarm clock for 5 pm and fell into bed, asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	19. First Day

Ch 19 First Day

McCormick woke up off and on during the day, sometimes confused and sometimes more lucid. At 4 pm he opened his eyes and glanced around to see Shirley standing at the foot of the bed.

"You're always here," he observed.

She smiled at him and moved closer.

"Not as much as your friend, my shifts are only 12 hours long."

"The judge was here?"

"We couldn't get rid of him."

Mark smiled to himself. Knowing someone cared was a good feeling.

"Where is he?"

"At home sleeping, I hope."

"How long… what day is it?" Mark asked.

"It's Monday afternoon," she answered, lifting the sheet to view the dressing on his abdomen.

"It was Saturday," Mark whispered.

"You're looking better," Dr. Bell remarked as he approached from the other side. "I'm just going to change the dressing and take a look at the wound," he said as he lifted the sheet and quickly removed the dressing.

"How is it?" Mark asked, looking the other way, not wanting to see.

"It's healing well, still a little bit of infection draining out, but I think you'll be out of here in a day or two."

"Out?"

"Out of the ICU, to a regular floor," Shirley clarified.

"Good." Mark barely whispered before his eyes closed again and was dozing off a moment later.

That's how the judge found him at 6:30 pm when he arrived. He stood next to his bed and watched him sleep for a few moments before sitting down with a contented smile to look at his newspaper.

"Hey," Mark whispered about 15 minutes later.

Hardcastle stood up to see him better. "How do you feel?" he asked as he leaned closer to get a better look. He couldn't say the kid looked good, but it was a hell of an improvement over what he had been.

Mark half smiled, "it's all I can do ... just to lay here."

"Well, luckily you don't have to do any more than that."

Mark just stared at him, breathing a bit harder from the exertion of talking.

"Don't think… I'll get to the lawn… this week," he said, pacing himself.

The judge smiled, "well, don't think you're getting out of any chores kiddo, next week you can do double." God it felt good to joke around with the kid.

McCormick closed his eyes for a few seconds, then took a long breath and opened them. The judge was still there, and their eyes met.

"You don't need to talk to me kiddo. I'm just gonna sit here and read my morning paper, and you can just rest."

Silence.

"It's not morning."

"Well, I've been busy."

The evening passed with the judge making a few comments about the Laker's recent defeat and sharing of other bits of news. Mark dozed off and on, but each time he woke up, Hardcastle was still beside him quietly reading, content just to be there.

It was a relief not to have to talk, and to know the judge was nearby. And every hour that passed seemed to bring things into clearer focus.

He moved his arm to adjust the sheet and groaned.

The judge moved beside him immediately, closely followed by Sandra.

"You alright?" Hardcastle asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Mark grunted, "it hurts more ... when I move around."

The judge nodded.

"Speaking about moving around," Sandra began, "my next goal is to get you up sitting in a chair."

Mark stared at her. "You've got to be kidding."

She shook her head. "I'm gonna give you another dose of pain medicine, and then we'll get you moving." She didn't leave any room for argument.

"Don't look so upset kiddo, these nurses know what they're doing. And you know you've gotta get moving sooner or later or I'll never get the chores done."

"Funny," Mark answered, realizing he wasn't going to get any sympathy from Hardcastle.


	20. Sitting Up

Ch 20 Sitting Up

While Hardcastle waited outside the unit, three nurses helped Mark into a recliner chair beside the bed.

"It's good to see you up kiddo," Hardcastle said when he returned to the unit.

When Mark didn't answer, the judge looked at him closer, he was pale, a glance up at the monitor told him that his pulse rate was 126 and his blood pressure had dropped to 80/40 again. He reached for Mark's hand and sat with him as Sandra bustled around the area. She lifted the leg rest of the chair, "I know you don't feel very well now Mark, your body has to adjust to being upright again. You were flat on your back and pretty sick for more than a day."

"You sure he's okay?" Hardcastle asked worriedly, and Mark noticed the crack in the judge's tough facade.

Sandra moved her head in the direction of the monitor, and as Hardcastle watched, he saw the pulse get slower and the blood pressure begin to rise.

"It's a little better," Mark said a few moments later.

"Good," Sandra answered.

"Good," Hardcastle echoed, then realized that he'd grabbed the kid's hand a moment before. He tried to let go, but McCormick had grasped his hand at the same time and was still holding on. They sat quietly until Mark started to relax.

"You can have your hand back now...sorry," he said and released his grip, but Hardcastle surprised him by hanging on tightly for a few extra seconds.

"You still feeling okay?" the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Mark closed his eyes and answered, "it still feels like I have no energy."

"It'll come, just take it one step at a time."

Mark was still sitting up in the chair when Hardcastle left. Once again, all he did was return to Gulls Way and fall into bed. He awoke at 4:30 am, feeling refreshed and ready for a good breakfast. Then he showered and changed before starting back to the hospital.


	21. Talking

Ch 21 Talking

He found Mark sitting upright in bed, looking much better.

"How ya doin?" Hardcastle asked as he approached.

Mark smiled at him, "Kinda hungry, got anything?"

"Hah!" Hardcastle chuckled, "I wouldn't even try to bring anything in here, these nurses run a tight ship kiddo."

"Tell me about it. They're tougher than you are," Mark returned.

"Maybe now you'll appreciate the good ship Hardcastle."

Mark watched the man take a seat close to the bed. "I already do judge. Thanks for everything. Shirley told me how long you were here. And ya know, as funny as it sounds, I felt like I knew you were close by. A couple of times, I really thought you were right there in that terrible fog with me. I even thought I could hear you telling me to keep fighting and," he hesitated, "that you were staying close."

Hardcastle coughed to cover up his surprise and thought quickly, _he remembers. What do I say now?_

"Course I was here. Any idiot would know that, where else would I be?"

Mark sighed and closed his eyes.

"You okay?" asked the judge when the silence stretched out too long.

Mark opened his eyes again. "Talking wears me out," he told his friend.

Hardcastle smiled, "finally, something to give me a break from your smart mouth."

"Yeah," Mark's voice sounded weak.

"You just rest for awhile kiddo. I'll be here," he said, opening up his paper.

H&M

Later that day, McCormick was moved out of the intensive care unit.

Once he was settled in his room, he cleared his throat.

Hardcastle looked up, "you want something?"

"It was my fault judge," he whispered.

"What was your fault?"

"I walked into their trap. I shoulda looked for you first."

Silence.

"Don't McCormick, this is bad enough without you blaming yourself."

"I walked past everything Millie saw in her vision, judge. The fog, the lights, everything. I shoulda been more careful. I don't know why I wasn't. I'm sorry it's been so much trouble for you."

"This is not your fault McCormick, so stop thinking that way," Hardcastle's voice was stern. "And this is no trouble for me as long as I get to bring you home."

He paused, "actually, this is my fault," he confessed in a subdued tone. "I'm sorry I made you go to that party. I should have figured they might try something. And I didn't even care about Millie's warning."

"Well, you don't go in for that kind of thing judge," Mark reasoned with him.

"But you do, and I really should've respected that. I know things like that can change the way a person responds in situations, and I bet that happened with you. You might not have gone out there normally, but because Millie said all that stuff, you decided to go have a look."

"I went because I was stupid. It wasn't your fault."

"Well, it sure wasn't yours kiddo."

Mark sighed and closed his eyes, too tired to go on arguing, but glad he'd brought the topic out into the open. Even if they couldn't agree, it was better to get the words out.

Hardcastle also sighed, and watched Mark drift into a light sleep. He couldn't help but smile. The kid was going to be okay, and he vowed to himself that he would taper off his retirement project.

After all, McCormick's parole was almost up, and he had to get on with his life anyway, especially when he'd been given this reprieve from death. There was just no sense in risking his life again. Whatever the future would hold for them, he hoped that he'd never see Mark in this condition again.

Hardcastle slipped out and headed down to the cafeteria for supper. Then, he would check on Mark again before he went home for the night. It was funny how McCormick thought that his being here was an imposition. The truth was, that without McCormick at home, he felt adrift, always preoccupied with what might be happening at the hospital and unable to focus on anything productive.


	22. Home

Ch 22 Home

They fell into a routine during the next week. Mark would call the judge early each morning, Hardcastle would visit from 11 am until 5 pm and then he would call Mark at 8 pm before the hospital phones were turned off.

Gradually, Mark got stronger, until finally, 3 weeks after Hardcastle found him lying at the bottom of the ravine, he was ready for discharge.

H&M

"Let me get the door," Hardcastle told him as he pulled the truck up to the front steps. He went around and pulled the door open, and Mark turned sideways as much as he could, to get into the best position to get out of the truck.

"Take it slow," the judge instructed.

"Will you relax? I've been practicing this for 2 days," Mark scolded as he stood up.

"Sorry."

"If you keep babying me like this, I might decide to never get better!" Mark announced, sure that would get the annoyed reaction he wanted from the judge.

"I don't baby people, especially you McCormick. I just want to make sure you don't have a relapse so you can get back to the chores as soon as possible."

"Yeah, well, I'm fine judge, really, and I'll be back to doing chores before you know it."

H&M

Milt watched the kid carefully, then reached for the last cookie, as Mark slapped his hand away. The kids reflexes were coming back alright. He sighed contentedly as Mark took a bite of the cookie.

"Is it time for my nap yet?" McCormick quipped, his mouth obviously full of a delicious cookie.

"No, it's time for MY nap. Nursing you is a 24 hour a day job."

"Marks' been though a lot," Millie interrupted as she handed him a glass of cold milk.

"Right Millie.. a lot of pain," Mark echoed.

"You don't know what pain is yet," Hardcastle growled.

"I don't think a little attention's gonna spoil him," Millie answered with a smile.

"Yeah," Mark echoed again with a smile.

"Don't worry Millie, after you're gone, I'm gonna give him plenty of attention."

"What do you mean 'when you're gone? What're you talkin about? What," he turned back to Millie, "you're not leaving are you?"

She nodded as Hardcastle answered.

"I told you but I think you were delerious at the time. She is gonna go to San Antonio and live with her sister."

"Oh no!" Mark exclaimed

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Millie finished.

"You can't do that, you can't leave me alone with him," he said, gesturing toward the judge. "You don't know what he'll do, he's vicious."

Hardcastle's laugh interrupted the tirade.

"It's the pain, he's slippin over the brink," Milt explained pointing to his head to indicate McCormick's mental state, even as his heart swelled with the enjoyment of the barbs.

"I know you two like to kid around," Millie began, "but you should've seen the judge when you were in surgery…"

"Millie, would you go in the kitchen and see if there's any more cookies," Milt's attempt to interrupt the housekeeper was ignored as Millie continued.

"Worse than an expectant father."

"Really?" Mark asked happily.

"Not really," Hardcastle cut in.

"He sat with you all night long, he never closed his eyes, he wouldn't leave your side until the doctor said you were going to be okay."

Mark smiled at the judge happily.

"Yeah, there was nothin on television," Hardcastle mumbled, turning the page of his paper. '_I guess I don't have to tell him how much he means to me after all,'_ Hardcastle thought with relief.

"I'm deeply moved," McCormick said, hardly able to contain the merriment at seeing the judge being made so uncomfortable by someone other than himself.

Millie leaned down then, and whispered quietly so only Mark could hear.

"What'd she say?" The judge asked suspiciously as McCormick smirked.

"Read my mind," Mark answered.

Hardcastle smiled as the zinger formed in his head, "it's a blank."

God, he had really missed this. During much of his time in the hospital, Mark hadn't been strong enough to do any real arguing. Hearing him so energetic sent a thrill through the judge and it was hard to keep the smile off his face.

Millie shook her head and went back into the house.


	23. Family

Ch 23 Family

Hardcastle kept the paper in front of him, but his eyes drifted over to McCormick fairly often. He was watching for the telltale signs he'd become expert at noticing at regular intervals now. Signs that indicated that Mark needed something.

First the talking would stop. That was not specific, it could either be caused by pain or tiredness, so he would have to wait. If the pain was worse, the kid would start shifting position, just a bit, hardly noticeable, but to the judge, it was a sign that he'd better bring the pain medicine out so Mark could get at it when he needed to.

On the other hand, if it was weariness, he would see Mark's shoulders slump and his eyes close, and he would put down anything he was holding. That was worse for Hardcastle than seeing him in pain, because there was nothing he could really do to help. He could just remain quiet and help him to be as comfortable as possible so he could rest.

It was one of those two reactions that Hardcastle was watching for now, and he didn't have too long to wait.

He heard the chair make a sound as Mark shifted position slightly.

"Be right back," the judge said as he headed into the house.

Mark caught his breath as pain from the bullet wound shot from his abdomen to his chest. He glanced at his watch. It had been almost 5 hours since he'd taken the last pain pill and he didn't have them in his pocket. Never in a million years did he think he'd be out on the patio this long or he would've brought them. But once he'd gotten here, he'd enjoyed it so much that for a few moments he'd forgotten about the pain. The judge had distracted him with insults and other conversation.

Unfortunately, the pain was back now, and suddenly worse than this morning. He wouldn't forget the pills again, that was for sure, but he also wouldn't have given up this time on the patio for anything. This was the first time he'd really felt like himself since he'd been shot. And the verbal sparring with the judge was just the icing on the cake.

Still, he'd have to go inside to take a pill soon and he dreaded moving.

"Here," Hardcastle said as he put down the pill container and a glass of water on the table in front of him.

Mark stared at the gifts in wonder. It had always been uncanny how the judge had known about certain things, but how in the world had he known about this?

He reached for the bottle and quickly downed the pill.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"Ah!" Hardcastle mumbled, as he lifted his hand in an exaggerated wave.

Mark smiled through the pain. To anyone else, the communication might not mean much, but to Mark, it was clear as day.

Hardcastle had just said, 'y_ou don't have to ask, just expect me to do anything and everything I can with as little fanfare as possible'. _

That was just the way it was. And if Mark had tried to describe the judge a month before this had happened, he thought he would've come up with pretty much the same description. They were family, it was as simple as that.

He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky, but he was deeply grateful to have found a home with such an amazing person. Someone who cared about him, and as amazing and unbelievable as it seemed, someone who really did love him. A friend that he looked up to and respected, and loved just like a father. He thought of his real father for just a moment, and felt a renewed motivation to keep working toward becoming someone that the judge could be proud of. He felt he had a long way to go, but he knew he could do it, because he knew he would die before he would ever let that man down.

"Ready for that nap now?" the judge asked about 20 minutes later. He'd kept a close eye on McCormick, and could see the pain pill had taken effect.

Mark nodded, "yeah, I think so," he said quietly.

He watched as the judge rose quickly and handed him the cane, then offered him a hand to help him to a standing position. He made his way inside to Sarah's old room and stretched out on the bed, Hardcastle close behind.

As the judge followed McCormick inside, it struck him yet again, that he was so incredibly lucky to have Mark in his life. He had never in a million years thought that he could feel this way again. That he had a family again. But, somehow, against all odds, he felt it. He couldn't deny it, even though he found it nearly impossible to put into words for the kid. He hoped McCormick understood.

He watched quietly, as without another word, the kid lay down on the bed and slid easily into a light sleep.

He would wake him up in time for dinner.

After all, if Mark didn't start eating, he might never get back to doing the chores. He reached out to spread a blanket gently over the sleeping form. Then he smiled as he thought about how and when he would deliver that particular comment to the kid.

The End


End file.
